


Bug

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A trip to Bolivia proves to be bad for Sam





	Bug

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Bug**

**by: Jen**

**Character(s):** Sam, Josh, Ensemble  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Sam  
**Category(s):** General  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to Aaron Sorkin etc  
**Summary:** A trip to Bolivia proves to be bad for Sam.  
**Author's Note:** Ninth in the Sam 'Breathing' series 

"C'mon, Sam, in here." Leo guided the Deputy Communications Director towards his room. Sam wavered in the hotel hallway as Leo unlocked the door and headed inside. Leo's head popped out a moment later, "Sam? I'll make coffee, c'mon." Sam grinned drunkenly and wandered into Leo's hotel room, not really sure how he got there but very pleased to be out of the raging La Paz nightclub where the guys had taken him a few hours earlier. He shut the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes. The silence was magnificent after the cacophony of noise he had endured all evening. His head was still thumping to some long-past rhythm and he felt like his insides were twisted into knots. 

Leo came back into the room, "I put the jug on... Sam, you all right there?" 

Sam opened his eyes a crack, "Might need - pop into the - ah - bathroom." 

"Sure, kid. It's just through there." Sam ambled off and was back in a minute, "All done!" he called cheerily before walking straight into the door-jamb. He fell backwards onto his butt with a thump and clasped a hand to his eye. "Ow!" he muttered. Leo rolled his own eyes and helped him up, easing Sam across the room and into a comfortable armchair. "You just relax, son. I'll get some ice." He came back with a cold cloth filled with ice and Sam pressed it to his eye, groaning slightly. 

....Sam had called him from a noisy nightclub, "Leo! LEO!"

"Yeah, what is it, Sam?"

"It's Sam, Leo."

"Yeah, I got that already."

"Sam SEABORN!" Leo had rolled his eyes. "Leo, help me. Pleeeeease?"

"Where are you?"

And Leo had found Sam trapped at a table of revelling, drunken young politicians and advisors, the table littered with glasses, the air heavy with cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol, something he tried to avoid at all costs these days. And even in his inebriated state, Sam had been apologetic on the drive back to the hotel, "Sooo shorry, Leo, I know you don' like goin' in those places. Really sshhh- sorry me. I am." And he had looked at Leo with soulful eyes, and Leo had forgiven him instantly. 

  
*

  
Leo glanced at his watch and frowned, "I need to call the President." He sat down on the sofa and pulled out his cell phone, keeping one cautious eye on the drunken man sprawled loosely opposite him.

"It's me... how did today go?" There was quite a lot of listening and words of assent from Leo's end of the conversation. Then, "He's here with me now. We haven't had much sleep in the last two days and the boys took him out on the town tonight - poor kid's drunk as a skunk. Had the good sense to call me, so I went and collected him. And he just walked into my bathroom door. I'll put money on a shiner tomorrow... What? Oh yeah, and a hangover... yeah, did good work though, great work, I couldn't have done what he did." He looked across at Sam, leaning back in the armchair, staring at the ceiling with one eye. "We're arriving just before you, I think, maybe eleven-thirty... I know, I'll keep tabs on him... " Leo sighed, "Really good negotiations, I was impressed with his skills... Yeah, he's a good kid... You all set for the river thing tomorrow? Good. We'll see you in the morning. G'night, Mr President."

Leo swung the phone shut and dropped it into his pocket. Sam moaned quietly and Leo rose to fetch the coffees. "You have it black, right?" He put a coffee near Sam and patted him on the shoulder. "C'mon, kid. Have a few sips of this then you can get some sleep. Let's have a gander at that eye." He gently removed Sam's hand and the ice pack and took a look, "It's not gonna be too bad, you klutz!" he admonished good-humoredly. 

Sam pouted at him as he sat up, squinting in pain. His hair was uncharacteristically wild and his clothing disheveled and Leo felt a pang of fatherly concern for the exhausted young man in front of him. He handed Sam the cup of coffee, steadying it in his hands, and then sat back on the sofa. 

"Last stop tomorrow. Then home. It's been a long two weeks this time, hasn't it."

Sam nodded and drank the coffee gratefully. His perception of what he was doing and where he was were fairly cloudy but he knew he was safe in Leo's company, and it was a lot better than the people he had had to mix with and negotiate with over the last forty-eight hours. The culmination of all that, a rather crazed drinking flurry in the nightclub, had worn him out completely. He was limp. And drunk. Drunk and limp. Lunk and drimp. No, no, no, drump and link? Sam shook his head gently. He screwed up his uninjured eye and looked at Leo, 

"When d'we gotta go 'n the morning?"

"Eight. We fly out at eight-thirty. Just a three-hour flight."

"Oh. Whasssatime now?"

"Time you went to bed, got some sleep. Gimme your key, I'll wake you at seven." Sam said, "Sure!" and then patted his pockets absentmindedly, before squinting at Leo once more, 

"Whatdcha want?'

"Key, Sam." Sam dragged the key out of his back pocket and handed it over, his head reeling slightly. Leo caught the paleness that flickered across his features and stood up, "C'mon, let's get you to your room."

  
* * *

  
The ride to the airport was excruciating. Sam was wearing dark glasses to match his immaculate dark suit, a stark contrast to his pale, strained face. Leo had been quietly sympathetic to his plight when he had woken him earlier with coffee and Advil, finding Sam buried under the bedclothes, a dark bruise shadowing a swollen eyebrow, purple trails leaking out underneath his eye, and a headache that limited his ability to make any sort of acceptable conversation. Sam seemed little better now, shifting uncomfortably on the seat as the car took the rather windy route to the airport. Leo was thankful it was a short trip and a comparatively brief flight. 

A few minutes after the flight took off, Sam turned to Leo, a pensive expression on his face, "Leo, about what happened -" he grimaced, "I know that sort of thing - " he stopped awkwardly, and hung his head a little. 

Leo grinned, and laid a hand on Sam's arm, "I could see this one coming a mile off, Sam, and you had to go out with them, and you gotta know, I don't have anything against the guys having a few drinks. Hell, a few years back and I'd have been right in there with the best of them." He shrugged, "To be honest, I didn't like it much in that nightclub, but I think I'm just too old for that sorta thing." He chuckled and patted Sam's arm gently. "You didn't get enough sleep the last few days though, which'd explain why you went under pretty fast. How's that eye?"

Sam lifted the sunglasses for a minute, wincing at the morning light streaming in through the porthole windows, and Leo took a look, "Better keep the shades on for now. Bound to be Press at the other end." Sam yawned widely and Leo glanced at his watch, "We've got a while, why don't you catch some more sleep. We've got a couple more days work to get through yet." 

Sam nodded and shuffled down in his seat, but sleep didn't come. He could feel the throb of his head competing with the throb around his eye. He was looking forward to the next leg of the journey, an environmental issue, a refreshing change from the strain of economic negotiations over fundraising issues. He had enjoyed working under Leo's umbrella without Toby or Josh there to be the buffers between them, and he knew Leo had been impressed with his work on this trip. He had enjoyed working side by side with Leo and hoped Leo would be able to see him as more of a mature colleague but he figured that the events of last night might have just wiped his slate. He only vaguely recalled phoning Leo for assistance, and he had no idea how he had hurt his eye. He was too embarrassed to ask, and was even more stumped as to how Leo was able to get into his room to wake him up. He shifted nervously in the seat and Leo glanced up over his glasses, 

"You really gotta learn to relax. You're as twitchy as a canary in a cat's cage." 

Sam blushed and scrubbed a hand over his face, careful to avoid his glasses. "Sorry."

"Try to stop thinking for a while. Everything's done for this next visit, isn't it?"

"I think so. I mean, we just need to need to view the polluted section of the stream, move down to the plant, view the clean section, make some speeches, open the new treatment station and leave again. Toby should have all of that with him. Then there's the dinner and that's all. I'm kind of looking forward to this visit. I can't wait to see what they've been doing, and how they achieved such good results. There are rivers and streams everywhere that could benefit from this kind of attention." 

Leo shook his head, "Shut up, will ya?" he said kindly, "Get some sleep, for Chrissake. I swear Josh'll kill me if you turn up there looking like a complete wreck." He turned back to his reading but peeked at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam's fingers drummed on his thighs for a few minutes before he settled down further in his seat and sighed deeply, and this time he slid into a light sleep.

Leo shook his head, and laid his papers down again. He was confused - he knew Sam was a grown man, with plenty of degrees, experience, a maturity and intelligence way beyond his years, a gift for writing so extraordinary it left Leo breathless at times - but he thought back to that young man waiting for him in the smoky nightclub, hair flopping over intensely blue eyes, an innocent grin on his suddenly shy face, and that surprise on his face as he sat sprawled in the doorway after bumping his eye, the sheer exhaustion so evident and Leo could see how the father in him rose to the surface again. At least the kid was asleep now, he smiled to himself paternally. He turned back to his reading. 

  
* * *

  
They arrived in the mountain city with an hour to spare before Airforce One blew in with all the horns and whistles of a Presidential arrival. In the hotel foyer, Sam and Leo rose wearily to greet the motorcade. 

Ten minutes later, Sam and Josh were alone in their hotel room. Josh dumped his bag on the bed and swung around to his partner, who was leaning against the door. 

"Sam! God, it feels like forever." He moved quickly towards Sam, and stopped right in front of him, "You look like hell." He reached up and tenderly removed the sunglasses, focusing on Sam's swollen and bruised eye, "Aww, you poor thing." He leaned in and kissed Sam's eyebrow, and Sam flinched slightly. Josh moved down to kiss his nose and then their lips joined in a fierce meeting, and they kissed passionately until their eyes swam and stars flickered around their peripheral vision. Panting, they drew apart and Josh took Sam by the hand, leading him over to the bed. They sat facing one another and Josh frowned at his beautiful lover, "How much sleep have you had exactly, since I last saw you?" 

Sam shrugged one shoulder and looked away towards the window. "Not enough, I guess. Last night was a little rough." He swung his gaze back to Josh's brown eyes, "I was totally smashed last night. Don't even know how I did this-" he pointed at his eye.

Josh grinned, "You don't?!"

"You're telling me you do?! Leo told you?" Sam's mouth dropped open and he felt his face heat up, "He never said a word. Oh God!" He frowned slightly, wincing at the same time. The events of the previous night slowly caught up with him, "Oh hell, I vaguely remember, Leo rescued me from the nightclub. Josh, these guys, they drank like fish, I didn't stand a chance." He rubbed his forehead. "How did the whole thing go with the Sultan?"

Josh's eyes lit up, "It was fabulous - the money there is unbelievable. The entire palace is practically made of gold - my room was golden, gold bedhead, gold brocade bedding, golden drapes, gold fittings in the bathroom, I swear I could redecorate our whole apartment - it felt magnificent. I needed you there." He put an arm around Sam's shoulders and they leaned into one another. "The meetings all went really well, though. I didn't have any hassles at all with their President's team, and they were really accommodating towards us. President Bartlet was thrilled with the functions too."

"How did Toby go?"

"I think he was pleased too. Not that it's easy to tell if Toby's pleased but I got a faint sense of something that hinted at pleasantness." Sam snorted at that.

They chatted on for a few minutes more until the telephone rang. It was CJ. "We're meeting in Leo's room in five minutes. Five-oh-two."

Josh groaned theatrically into the telephone and fell back on the bed, pulling Sam down with him, "Sure, CJ, we'll be down soon." 

"Put Sam on."

"Hey, Ceej. How was your trip?"

"It was luxurious. How's your eye? I heard you tried to take out Leo's room single-handedly!" 

It was Sam's turn to groan, "Ceej, that's nor fair, I didn't know what I was doing. Those young politicians down there, they drink like, like sponges. I \- I was trying to do the diplomatic thing," he offered weakly. 

CJ snorted into the phone. "Pathetic, Sammy. Stop snogging, you two. See you in five." 

  
* * *

  
Leo had pots of coffee ready. Toby was already there when Sam and Josh arrived, and he almost looked pleased to see Sam, patting the sofa seat beside him and swinging around to take a good look at his Deputy. 

Sam took off his dark glasses and looked uncertainly at Toby, a hesitant smile on his face, 

"Hey, Toby. You had a good trip so far?"

Toby stared at Sam's bruised and slightly closed eye, "You had to do this before we were home?"

Sam stared right back at him, "Yeah, I just had to do it. I was hoping to create a situation where there were a lot of awkward questions - figured it might take some attention from the environmental speeches for this afternoon, since that's not very important to me."

Toby snorted and poured them both a coffee. He glanced at Sam again as they sat back, "Does it hurt much then?"

Sam shrugged, "Yes." CJ joined him on the sofa and gave him a hug, then turned his face to inspect his sore eye,

"Aw, Samshine, your eyebrow's all swollen." She ran a finger along the top of his cheek, "Look at that bruising. You really need to be more careful. How'm I going to spin this?"

Leo sat down opposite them and frowned, "You're gonna have to blame it on his usual clumsiness. We can't say he was saturated in alcohol."

"Hey, I wasn't that drunk." 

"How did you hurt your eye, Sam?"

"I - I - " Sam's head swung wildly from Leo to Toby to CJ, and they were all smiling. He lifted a hand to his head and moaned slightly. "Oww. C'mon, guys, what did I do?"

CJ grinned, "You really don't know?"

Josh joined in, "He really doesn't! If Sam - ah - over-indulges, he is renowned for a remarkable loss of memory the morning after." He winked at Sam, who wrinkled his nose back at him. 

Leo grinned, "Sam, I rescued you from that nightclub, took you back to my room to make coffee, and you were coming back from the bathroom when you just walked into the doorway. Fell right on your backside, a stunned look on your face. I gave you an icepack, then delivered you safely back to your own bed."

There was a small crease between Sam's brows, "How did everyone else know then?"

"Because while you were sitting there staring drunkenly at the ceiling, I talked to the President."

Sam leaned his face into one hand and groaned miserably, "I wanna go home."

CJ's hand was back on his shoulder, "Sam, we have a river to visit this afternoon. You know you're looking forward to that! And hey, make-up might just conceal that shiner." And at that point Leo sat forward and began to run through the program for the afternoon's activities. 

Once Leo had gone over his schedule, it was CJ's turn. She went over the seating plan for the dinner that evening, and then described the menu, advance warning often being appreciated when they were eating with another cultural group. 

"They're treating us to what could be called Bolivian national dishes, spicier up here in the hills than down in the lowlands. You'll be served Tucanos and Saltenas - they're like empenadas, a mixture of diced meats, raisins, potatoes, hot sauce and pepper baked in a dough." Josh felt Sam wriggle next to him on the couch, as CJ continued, "We'll also be served Lomo Montado, a fried tenderloin steak with two fried eggs, rice and fried banana."

Josh nudged Sam sympathetically with his shoulder, "Okay?" he whispered. Sam's lips whitened and he blinked very slowly. His little finger scraped along the seam of Josh's pants. 

CJ was still talking about food, "If you get a small egg, it could be a quail's egg. The most popular drink, chicha - " She stopped. Sam had paled dramatically. He rose and excused himself, one hand pressed to his mouth. CJ's eyes followed his rapidly departing figure and then she shrugged at the others, "Did I say something wrong or is our Sam feeling a little -ah - fragile today?"

Josh nodded, "Fragile's a good word."

Leo grinned, "I'd say he'll definitely be feeling better tomorrow."

Toby leaned forward to top up his coffee, "Can I have that in writing?"

CJ continued with the menu and protocol briefing until they were interrupted again, this time by an aide from the local government. 

"I have been meeting regularly with your forward planners, but we see no solution. I just wish to express our concern and distress about the situation." The Senior Staffers all looked at one another and shrugged in confusion. The aide faltered, "You don't know?"

Toby frowned and dumped his coffee cup on the table irritably, "Don't know WHAT?"

"The area where we are going to view the Riverworks Project, it is not so far from the extraordinary Karowaxa quarry - the men working on the quarry were helicoptered in two weeks ago and won't be brought out until next Thursday. The problem is that these men are blasting sections of the quarry and it is quite a possibility that blasts may occur during our visit into the hills."

"Is it dangerous to be in the area?"

"Oh no, it is actually a good distance away, but the particular altitude and the basin-like structure of the mountain range there magnifies and embellishes the blasts. It is really an awkward inconvenience."

Josh put his head on one side, "Couldn't you ask them to hold off until we've passed through?"

"Unfortunately, no, it is a very difficult area to reach by any short wave or digital programme. We shall have to chance our luck."

CJ frowned, "There'll be Press there. If a blast goes off during speeches, it may be construed as some sort of terrorism or threat to President Bartlet."

"Exactly our concern, Ms Cregg."

Leo turned to CJ, "Put a lid on that one before we leave, right? Toby, go with CJ and get that done right away. We're leaving in half an hour." He eyed the aide, "Why wasn't this brought up before?"

"We've discussed it with your forward team but I had no idea until just now that they had not passed on their concerns."

Leo turned again, "Josh, go see Emmanuel, find out where communication broke down, see if they have any more surprises in store for us." 

  
* * *

  
The afternoon brought grey skies and a cool wind running down from the hills. They set out mid-afternoon. Jed Bartlet asked that Sam ride with him in the front limousine. They gazed out the window for a while, Jed and Sam fascinated by the mountain scenery, Leo thinking about a situation that was threatening to blow out of proportion between a small town and the neighbouring military base in Nevada. After a few minutes, Jed eyed the other two men with a glint in his eye, 

"You two aware that forty-nine per cent of this country is forested?"

Leo stared more fixedly out of the window, "Oh God!" he muttered.

"This country has five bordering neighbours - can you name them?"

Sam swung his gaze to Leo who was pointedly ignoring everyone, then cleared his throat, "Ah, Brazil, Argentina, Chile - " he paused to stifle a yawn, "Sorry, um, Peru and -ah-"

"Paraguay!" crowed the leader of the free world. "Sam, you look tired. Leo tells me you had a busy time over the last couple of days."

"Yes, sir. The negotiating team they put together was pretty sharp - they were mainly economists so I guess I had the lead on them in the law department, but it made for interesting discussions - which seemed to take a long, long time for every point we had to debate." 

"And I hear they drink as well as they argue?"

Sam blushed slightly, "Yes, sir, that was one place where they definitely had the advantage over me." He self-conscientiously patted his eyebrow, careful not to disturb the pale foundation CJ had painted over the dark bruising that now encircled most of his eye. 

"You had many shiners in your time, Sam?" 

Sam reddened a little more, "Yes, sir. I used to get - ah - pushed around a little at high school." 

Jed leaned back in the seat, "Aah, the old school bullies. Let me tell you about a boy at my old institute of learning, his name was... oh yes, Lincoln McGregor. A fine name for a complete weaselly lump of a boy, who used his size to his own great advantage. I recall one time..." 

  
* * *

  
The Riverworks Project was fascinating, especially as it came out of such a poor country, with limited technological development. Sam was totally taken with the deep, dank murkiness of the slow-moving water. The villages nearby had contributed to the pollution, but most of it was caused by a factory manufacturing tin products, tin being a common ore found there. Because of the prevalence of tin-producing factories, this particular project had special significance for the land. 

Sam leaned over the railing, staring into the water. The ageing temporary railing was wobbly and as he stepped gingerly to the very edge of the riverbank, he could feel the lack of tension in the ropes and pickets. 

Suddenly there was a loud explosion which echoed around the basin of hills. Sam started with fright and the rope in his hand came loose. Fearing some sort of bomb, he turned quickly to see the President. Off balance though, he found himself going straight over where the rope had been, flying head first down towards the inky blackness, hitting the freezing surface with a huge splash and rocketing downwards into the depths. The slimy water closed over him. 

He felt the water surge into his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears - he thrashed out wildly, halting his fall, turning in the surprisingly deep water and pushing upwards, feeling the slow pull downstream. Within seconds he had broken the surface, spluttering and gasping, flailing madly in his suit, his tie trailing around his neck, and he automatically began stroking for the riverbank. Agents and local police had rushed to the water's edge, and they reached out to help him as he stood up, wobbling precariously on the rounded stones, his hair plastered against his head, his skin almost green from the foul water, his ruined suit clinging to his slender body. 

Toby and Josh met him at the edge of the road after he was escorted up the bank and they both stared in horror at the sodden, shivering, slime-covered speechwriter. Sam stared at them in fright, 

"What happened, was it a bomb, is everyone all right?" He shuddered as Josh plucked gingerly at his wet sleeve.

"It was the quarry. They said there'd be explosions... omigod, you were out of the room!" He swung round to look at Toby, "Did you tell him?" 

"There wasn't time, he was off being ill then he went with the President, so... I figured they'd talked about it in the car."

"Jeez, Sam, we better get you somewhere warm." Sam was shaking violently now as Leo and the President came over. Both men goggled at the sight of Sam dripping water and slime, and it was Jed who leapt into action first.

"Blanket!" he barked at the policeman nearest him, but he shrugged helplessly. It appeared that no-one had thought to bring a blanket on this particular visit. No-one really wanted to put their own clothes near his either. Josh talked briefly with the senior men, who nodded and within minutes they had bundled a miserable Sam into a police car and sent him back to the hotel. 

Sam sat in a soggy heap in the back seat. The drive back seemed interminable. Sam was sure he could feel the slime from the river oozing around his body, and every slight movement increased his discomfort. His pants clung wetly to his thighs - now and then he would pluck the cold damp material away from his skin but its return would only increase his frenzied shivering. 

The policeman apologised in Spanish for the lack of heating in the car 'broken', the lack of blankets 'stolen', the state of the roads 'terrible' and the traffic as they neared the city 'appalling'. Sam stuttered out a reluctant 'si' after each apology, trying to concentrate on the view outside the window. 

It took nearly half an hour to reach their hotel, and as the policeman held open the door, Sam peeled himself out of the car, apologising for the now sodden seat. He squelched miserably into the lobby, attracting the attention of the floor manager, who rushed over and escorted him to his room with promises of immediate dry-cleaning for his sodden clothing. 

Ten minutes later Sam had managed to strip away every item of clothing, leaving them in a bag by the door. He crept back to the bathroom shuddering incessantly, and ran a hot shower. He used up two cakes of hotel soap, scrubbing and slathering his skin over and over, desperate to eliminate the foul slime from the river, continually increasing the heat to warm up his chilled body. The shivering finally stopped, and after a final rinse, Sam stepped out of the shower, surprised to find his legs quite wobbly. He dried off sitting on the edge of the bath, then rose shakily to find some dry clothes. 

The door swung open nearly two hours later and Josh appeared. Sam was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard reading, and he peered up at Josh through his glasses, "How did it all go?'

"It was fine. What about you? Are you all right?" He came over and sat on the bed beside Sam and took his hand. "Did you get warm quickly? How're you feeling? I just couldn't believe you went right in."

Sam sifted through the barrage of questions, "I'm all right. I felt a bit shaky but I think it's passed now. What was the river like, below the treatment station? I really wanted to see that."

"The river was fine." Josh waved it away dismissively. "I want to know more about you. That water looked awful. Have you been sick or anything?" 

Sam looked at him in alarm, "You think it'd make me sick? Oh no, that'd be awful." He pushed a hand against his stomach, "I feel all right so far. Well, I know I swallowed a lot of the water, but I was hoping - well, I didn't really think about it. God, please don't let me get sick. What sort of bugs do they have? And I do NOT want to get medical treatment here."

"Bugs? I dunno. The doc could tell us. And we'll be safe on Airforce One in the morning so hopefully you won't have to worry about anything."

"Yeah," Sam smiled at him weakly. "What time do we have to be ready for the dinner?"

"Seven. Want a coffee?" 

  
* * *

  
Sam wasn't very hungry at the dinner. He had to endure some jibes from the Press, and polite enquiries from the Bolivian aides and politicians during the pre-dinner drinks. He sat between two women from the equivalent of the EPA and managed to enjoy their conversation without drawing attention to the fact that he couldn't seem to face the food on his plate. 

Back in their room after the evening was over, Sam sat wearily on the bed. As Josh undressed, he watched Sam carefully. 

"You didn't eat anything tonight."

Sam patted his stomach, "It can't hurt to miss a meal - we've been eating well and getting no gym time for the past fortnight. I think I could do with missing the occasional meal."

Josh snorted, "Don't give me that. You're not putting on weight, I know every inch of your body intimately." Sam raised an alluring eyebrow at him and fell back onto the bed, arms outstretched. 

"You sure about that?"

"I'd better do an inventory then." Now in his boxers, Josh slipped up onto the bed and knelt by his lover's side. He slowly untied Sam's bow-tie, knowing Sam's eyes were on him but not wanting to look yet as that would have melted him too soon. Then he worked on the buttons, first the one at his throat, and he gently leaned in and kissed Sam's neck, licking at his collarbone as he loosened the second button. Third and fourth gave him a glorious view of Sam's toned and golden chest and he spent some time there before working on the next two buttons. He patted Sam's stomach with interest, and hummed and hawed a little, "Maybe a slight loss of tone in this area, you are definitely a little softer here." As Sam huffed in indignation, lifting his head, Josh buried his nose in Sam's belly and nibbled at his skin. Sam writhed in approval at once and relaxed again, sighing. 

Josh moved his attention to Sam's belt and trousers, which he removed with an expert hand, leaving Sam in boxers as well and the two men embraced fiercely for some minutes, enjoying the sheer pleasure of warm skin contact and they soon merged their bodies into a heated lovemaking that left them both panting side by side on the bed.

"There's your workout then," puffed Josh, grinning tiredly. He leaned up on one elbow and ran a hand over Sam's glistening body. "You have a great body, Sam. I love your body."

Sam smiled at him, but patted his belly again with concern, "I still need to get back to the gym." Josh lifted his hand away and rolled on top of him, capturing Sam's hands and pinning them above his head on the bed, 

"You are one obsessive sonofabitch, Samuel Seaborn." He leaned down and kissed Sam for a long moment, then sat up slightly and stared into Sam's tense blue eyes, "I wouldn't care what size you were, I'd still want you, daily. And nightly!" 

  
*

  
Josh had been in a deep sleep when he was woken by Sam, who was writhing and tossing in the bed, and he sat up in slight irritation.   
"What's the matter?"

Sam groaned. "My stomach hurts. And my head hurts. And it's cold in here."

Josh switched on the light, glancing at the bedside clock, "It's nearly five. And it's warm as anything in here." He rubbed his eyes then stared at Sam in alarm, "God, you look terrible." His hand automatically lifted to Sam's cheek, and his eyes widened, "You've got a fever, I think." 

"Damn!" Sam sat up and immediately leaned forward, pressing his head into his knees. "Ooooh! What time do we leave?"

"Seven. It's breakfast on the plane, as far as I recall!" 

"Ack! No foooood!" Sam hugged his stomach tightly, his head still bent over. "I have to get on that plane, Josh. I'm not staying here." 

Josh rubbed a hand up and down Sam's back, "Sure. But what if it's serious?"

"Don't care. They can deal with anything on Airforce One, can't they?"

"But it might be a Bolivian bug or something."

"All the more reason to get the hell out of here!" 

"You wanna throw up or something?"

"Oowww, I don't think so." His shoulders lifted and fell tensely. "Did my suit come back from the cleaners?" 

"Yeah, it was there when we came in last night. Don't you remember?"

Sam shrugged and then groaned again, and Josh figured it was going to be a long day. He stretched, 

"Might as well have a shower. You be all right here?" Sam lifted his head and Josh was once more alarmed by his pale face, high spots of fever on his cheeks, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot, one surrounded by smudgy black bruising, his mouth drawn in a tight line. "Uh, well, just stay there, maybe get some more sleep?" He backed away and slipped into the bathroom. He was worried, Sam looked really awful and definitely didn't want to get seen by some local doctor who might forbid him to fly or something. But what if it was something serious. Nah, probably something he ate. Then Josh started nervously, his tired brain waking up. Sam didn't eat anything yesterday. He was too hungover. And then he felt ill at the dinner. Josh frowned as it dawned on him, it was the river. That freaking polluted river. He'd caught something in the river!!!!

Fuming, he showered and shaved and wrapped a towel around his waist before heading back into their bedroom. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched protectively, his knuckles white as he gripped the bedding. Josh sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey!" He could feel Sam flutter tensely, and he squeezed him gently, "How d'you feel now?" Sam grimaced and turned slightly to look at him closely. His eyes were a little unfocused, and he pouted sadly, 

"Just wanna get home now. Sorry about this, Josh."

Josh smiled, "Have I ever complained? We just got to get you onto that plane. How about you get dressed now, while you're still vertical?" Sam nodded and started to peel off the t-shirt he had been sleeping in. Josh took over, lifting it over his head and stuffing it in the case as he searched for a clean undershirt. He diverted to the bathroom and fetched a cool washcloth which he handed to Sam while he searched for the rest of his clothes and dressed himself at the same time. 

At a quarter to seven a porter called for their bags and the two men made their way slowly down to the lobby. Sam was wearing his dark glasses again, and they hoped everyone would assume it was to hide his black eye. 

"Josh, Sam, over here!" CJ was lounging at one of the lobby coffee tables, and she had a pot of tea and several cups. "Tea?" 

"Sure, for me, but I think Sam'll give it a miss." Josh steered Sam to a chair beside CJ and he sat down opposite her. CJ frowned slightly at the man next to her, 

"Surely you're not still nursing that hangover. How's the eye this morning?" She reached over and lifted off his dark glasses, "My God, what happened to you? Sam, honey, you look awful." 

Sam tried to smile but it was more of a grimace, "I don't feel so good."

Josh leaned forward over the teapot. "We think it might be the river he fell in. But Sam just wants to get out of here without a fuss." CJ slipped Sam's glasses back on and kissed him on the cheek, 

"Sure. The cars'll be here soon, just make sure you don't go with the President, he'll see through you in a flash."

  
* * *

  
One hour later and they were airborne, heading for DC at last. Sam had been in the bathroom since take-off, Josh popping in now and then to check on him as he knelt on the floor, cradling the toilet bowl, retching every few minutes. Toby had seen at once that Sam was ill, and had given them an hour before deciding whether to call in the duty doctor on board. At the end of the allotted time he followed Josh into the bathroom. Sam was still retching, his hair plastered damp on his forehead, and he was starting to cough in between bouts of vomiting. Toby stared down at him, concerned. Sam sat back on his heels just then and looked up at him wearily, 

"I'm really sorry about this. Look, I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't need the doctor." He sounded shaky. Toby glanced at Josh, who shrugged helplessly, his hand resting on Sam's shoulder. He looked worried though and Toby decided to make the decision for them. 

He slipped out into the carriageway and wandered along to where Leo was working on some papers. 

"Who's the duty doctor with us at the moment?"

Leo's head came up, and he peered at Toby through his glasses, "What'd'ya need that for?"

Toby rubbed at his forehead, "Sam. We think he may be affected by that spill he took yesterday. He's been vomiting since take-off."

"Christ! That kid'll be the death of me."

"Take a number! Can I call the doc?"

"Sure, look, I'll come with you. I need a break from this headache in Nevada." Leo dropped his glasses on the table and stood up. "You think that dirty water's done something to him?"

"Well, it's not anything he ate; he didn't eat anything yesterday."

"What's he vomiting then?"

Toby shrugged and they walked on until they reached the duty doctor, Perry Harris, a lean, silver-haired practitioner in his late fifties. He listened to their concerns and then picked up his bag and followed them back to the bathroom. Sam was retching again when they entered, Josh rinsing out a washcloth at the basin. 

Perry crouched on one knee by Sam, and introduced himself before laying a hand on Sam's forehead. He waited a good thirty seconds, observing his patient closely, then leaned towards him, looking into the pained blue of Sam's eyes, ''Sam, you need to come along to the medical room with me. Think you can make it?"

Sam took the cloth that Josh held out and wiped his face, "Sure," he whispered. He went to stand up but his legs were cramped and his equilibrium out of kilter. He wavered, steadied quickly by Josh and Perry. Leo opened the door, and held it there as they escorted Sam through and along to the medical centre. Toby and Leo went back to their work and Josh stayed with Sam as Perry made his initial examination. He took Sam's vital signs, and listened to his chest, between bouts of painful retching or coughing. He sat down and made some notes on a computer, which Josh noticed he opened on a page all about Sam.

"You have information about all of us on this computer?"

"I do. It helps should anything go wrong mid-flight. First time I've had to actually use it." He indicated Sam, "Has he had diahorrhea as well? Or stomach cramps?"

"No to the first, thank goodness, and yes to the second, he woke up with awful pains in his stomach."

"What time was that?" 

"About five this morning. We didn't do anything about it then cos we hoped it'd just pass."

Perry snorted, and typed a few more lines. "And the fate of the nation rests on decision-makers with your skills!" He rolled his chair back over to Sam, who was curled up on his side looking miserable. He took Sam's temperature again and changed containers. Placing a sympathetic hand on Sam's shoulder, he grimaced, "I'd say you have a bacteria poisoning from the water, we can decide which one later, and it sounds like you're developing an URTI." He glanced at Josh, "Upper respiratory tract infection. Judging by your recent history of chest problems, it probably isn't a surprise, and it's quite common when people have an unexpected dumping in cold water. I might get you to sit up a little, so we can try to limit the build up of fluid. You're in for a rough few days, son. I'm sorry. You need some antibiotics but they're going to have to be by IV until your stomach eases." He cranked the bed up so that Sam was on a forty-five degree angle, then he raised the side rails and started setting up an IV. 

Josh came to the bedside and took Sam's hand, "Looks like you get to rest through the flight. That's gotta be some sort of bonus, right?" 

Sam shifted on the bed, "Don't like this sort of bonus." He closed his eyes as his stomach turned inside out once more and he leaned over the container, retching. Josh stroked his head gently until he was finished. Perry inserted the IV efficiently and then looked at Josh, "I might just report back to Mr McGarry - I have a scheduled appointment with the President in fifteen minutes - will you stay for a while?"

Josh nodded. After Perry had left, Josh took Sam's container and rinsed it, then he came back and sat by the bed. Sam groaned sadly and gazed at him longingly. 

"I so don't want to be here. Toby was going to work on the speech for the Child Cancer forum and I wanted to work with him on that."

"Maybe when you're feeling better he could come and work with you here?"

Sam brightened a little, "You ask him?"

"Sure. For now, why don't you get some shut-eye? This flight'll take hours, even with refuelling in Orlando, and I really have to say, considering how beautiful you are, right now you don't look so good!" And although Sam looked peeved, Josh felt he had been rather generous. Sam looked like shit. His tan had vanished completely, his bruised eye standing out starkly against his pale features. There were bright spots of fever still burning high on his cheekbones and tight lines of strain around his mouth. His hair was sticking up in all directions, but it was his eyes that looked the most disconcerting - weary, washed out. Josh missed the intense blue that pierced his very soul every time they looked at one another. He gently kissed Sam's forehead and pressed him against the pillow. "Sleep."

Sam nestled down a little and closed his eyes, but five minutes later he was leaning forward and groaning again, one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other arm hampered by the IV. Josh leapt up from where he had been scanning a magazine and held the container steady as Sam writhed and churned and spat helplessly. He leaned back after he had finished and swore softly.

Josh looked at him in surprise. "Hey! There's no point getting upset now."

Sam stared at him with watery eyes, "Why the hell not? I've been doing so well these last few weeks, no coughing, no asthma, and now look at me - " he waved a wild hand over himself, "stuck back in a freaking medical room yet again, puking my guts out every five minutes and now I can feel - " he stopped and stared at the blanket Perry had draped over him, "now I..." he faltered and swallowed laboriously, squeezing his eyes shut.

Josh lowered the guard rail and sat on the bed, "What d'you feel?" He took Sam's hand in his own, and held it firmly, "Tell me."

Sam scrunched his face up and wrinkled his brow, his eyes opening a fraction, and his voice was barely a whisper, "It's on fire." He shot Josh a glance of complete misery, "Josh, I can't take it."

"What d'you mean?"

"I can't take it, not another one, I just can't!" He began to shake his head from side to side.

Josh dropped Sam's hand and grabbed him by the shoulders, his eyes wide with surprise, "Sam, what's going on?"

Sam seemed close to breaking down completely, "My chest is so sore, I can feel it starting to burn. Josh, I was doing so well, I've taken all the preventative stuff, I've kept fit and taken vitamins. Oh God, I don't want to battle another infection-" As if in answer, he began to cough, panicky wheezes starting to squeak out. He gripped Josh's sleeves in tight fingers, "I just can't get sick again." He coughed and coughed, suddenly full of irritation and Josh looked around, wondering what to do. He was trying to peel Sam's steely fingers off his sleeves when CJ appeared beside him.

"Hey, you guys fighting over the bed?"

"Thank God you're here, help me calm him down, will you?" Josh's voice was strident.

CJ looked at him, "How about you take five, let me deal with this?"

"CJ-"

"Josh, listen to yourself. You're too close. Go for a spin around the plane." Josh and CJ locked eyes for a moment then he backed away from the bed and moved to the other side of the surgery, where he folded his arms and stared out of one of the portholes at the intense blueness that enveloped them, sparkling sunlight catching the wingtips, the steady roar of the engines suddenly soothing, drowning out Sam's cough, Sam's wheeze, Sam's fear.

And CJ was calm. She placed one cool hand against Sam's cheek and held him steady. "Hey, Sam." Her voice was low and Sam blinked madly at her, and his internal struggle for control was almost palpable. His wheeze slowed a little and he seemed to absorb her calm through the hand on his hot cheek. He coughed painfully a couple of times then hung his head, suddenly embarrassed. His shoulders lifted and fell with this latest struggle to breathe. CJ felt a warm flutter deep inside herself, and sat down on the bed, taking one of his hands. 

Sam stared at the bedding, unwilling to look up. How could he behave like that? And yet he felt somehow justified, it was so irritating to be ill yet again. He tried a calming breath, but it dissolved into another cough. CJ patted his back firmly and this time he lifted his face to meet hers. She stared at him intently. 

"Tantrum over now?"

Sam blushed and nodded jerkily. Josh wandered back over and stood behind CJ, one hand on her shoulder. 

"You need some sleep. You were tired before all this."

"I know. I know." He put his head on one side, "You tell the doctor what's wrong?"

"Sure." 

Sam leaned against the pillows and CJ held his hand - "I'll wait here until you're asleep." Sam gave her a tiny, grateful smile and shuffled down a little, closing his eyes. 

"Thanks, Ceej," he muttered, already dozing off. Josh went in search of Perry, and CJ settled down happily to watch Sam fall asleep. His eyelashes were quite amazing, she thought, thick and dark, and his nose was just perfect, sharp and fine without looking feminine. He had a strong chin, a glorious mouth... CJ frowned at herself, what was she doing?! All the same, she couldn't resist gently stroking the hair off his forehead and straightening the bedcovers around his shoulders. She could hear the tiny wheeze in his breath and, suddenly moved with sympathy, she kissed him on the tip of his nose.

  
* * *

  
Leo sat down opposite Jed. "We need to divert this flight, head for Nevada. I gotta take Josh and Toby in there."

"How bad is the situation?"

"Pretty bad. There's been a near riot an hour ago and things are quiet but it could blow up any moment. Two men are dead and it's gonna hit the Press within hours. It's one big ugly stink bomb, Mr President."

Jed stared at Leo, "How easy is it to divert?"

"I cleared it with Ron and the pilots - it's really up to you now. There's a certain danger in an unscheduled diversion of course, air space checks and everything, but they're mocking up a route right now that we can look over if you approve."

Jed's eyes bored into his best friend, "What d'you think?"

Leo stared back unflinchingly, "I think we need to go. We're on the way already. If we go back to DC first, it's likely to escalate."

"So we skip Orlando and head back North-West?"

"Pretty much."

"Let's do it then."

Leo stood up, "It's not gonna be pretty."

"What is?"

  
* * *

  
They all felt the change of direction and altitude, coinciding as it did with Sam making a renewed effort to empty his stomach. Perry came over and rubbed his back gently as Sam leaned forward in pain, arms wrapped around his middle. 

"I'm sorry you're going through this. I'd hoped that last addition to your IV would've knocked it on the head." Sam's head bobbed up and down in agreement as he retched again. "I suspect you'll have to stay away from food for at least a couple of days, until this bug loses its grip." He disposed of the container Sam had been holding. "You notice the plane has changed direction?"

Sam leaned back tiredly, "I thought maybe it was just me."

Perry smiled, masking his concern at the state of his patient, "We're diverting for some reason. They can't tell us why at this stage." 

Sam's eyebrows lifted with worry, "Has something happened?" He sat forward gingerly, "Maybe I should go see -"

He was stopped in his tracks by a firm hand against his chest, "Uh-uh. I'll pass on your concern but you're not going anywhere right now, son. Honestly, you're fighting a nasty bug, or maybe two," he frowned as Sam coughed, loud crackles exploding from his chest, and he didn't miss Sam's grimace at the burning sensation of that. "They can come to you."

"But they might NOT!" Sam squinted at him miserably. 

"Too bad! I'm getting the feeling you're not a very good patient, my boy!" He patted Sam's arm. "I'll let Toby know how you're doing. He's been checking up on you."

Sam's eyes grew wide, "He has? Wow." Somewhat mollified, he nestled back against the  
pillows again, weary and sore. 

Perry took the opportunity to take Sam's temperature and listen to his breathing. Afterwards, he leaned on the bed rail, "What happened to your eye? Was that part of the fall in the river?" 

Sam bit his lip, "I did that the day before. I kind of ran into a doorway."

"You're not having a good trip." 

"It was remarkably successful until the doorway thing. And then the river thing." He glanced sideways at the doctor, "I'm not usually that accident prone..."

Perry burst out laughing, "Sam, you've got a reputation as long as my arm! Your accidental exploits are what keep us White House doctors in business!" Sam was saved from replying by Toby coming into the room. 

Toby looked at Sam before turning to Perry, "How's he doing?"

"Hey!" huffed Sam, "You can't just ask me?"

"I could, " replied Toby dryly, "but I actually want to know how you are, so it'd be a complete waste of time asking you. I very much doubt that 'fine' applies to you right now, because you look terrible." He turned back to Perry without missing a beat, "So how is he?"

Perry was smiling at the interchange. "He's still attempting to vomit on a fairly regular basis but I can't see that lasting too much longer. He couldn't possibly have anything left inside. He also is developing a chest infection that I'm trying to fight, but it may be a losing battle, judging by the congestion building up quite rapidly in there right now. He's running a low grade fever, which is normal under the circumstances, and I'd say he's going to be rather sore for a few days, the way his stomach's been twisting itself into knots." Perry smiled at Sam, "See why I want you to stay in bed?"

Toby rolled his eyes and rubbed a finger along his temple, "May I speak with Sam alone for a few minutes? It's about work. I guarantee he'll stay in bed."

"Certainly. I'll go get some coffee." 

As soon as the door closed Toby described the situation in Nevada and the need for serious intervention, the opportunity of Airforce One passing by too great to ignore.   
"We're going to need to do some fast negotiations and placating of both sides. Leo wants Josh and me in there with him, leaving the President to do a little rapid repair with CJ."

"What can I do?" Sam struggled to sit up a little straighter, grimacing at his tender stomach muscles, "There must be something I can do." He coughed loudly, Toby's eyes darkening at the sound of all-too-familiar congestion. He glanced around the room, "Could you still write? We're going to need messages for families caught up in this, we're going to need some legal strikes to take in with us when we land, we're going to need to decide what the Press gets before we tell them where they're headed. Think you can help with that? I could bring your laptop in. We could work here for a little while."

  
*

  
An hour later they had nutted out the Press release for CJ to read to those reporters on the plane, they had ghosted some comments for the President to make in the first hour on land, and they had done some work on the legality of the situation and their approach to both sides. This wasn't the first Army-village battle and it needed to be handled better than the last one, which had been left in the hands of the Army itself. In the same hour, Sam had retched pityingly four more times, and was now coughing almost continually. He was yawning widely as Josh and Perry came in the door. 

Perry took a good look at Sam, and turned to Toby, "I think he needs to stop now." Toby held up his closed laptop, 

"Just stopped a few minutes ago. I could see him suddenly fade. He's still trying to throw up though." 

Josh had gone right up to Sam's side. "How're you doing?" Sam grinned tiredly, but could only cough. He made an ASL OK with his hand and Josh laid a hand on his head. "Get some sleep then. Want me to stay for a few minutes?" Sam nodded. 

Perry came over to the bed, "Just let me check you out, Sam." Josh stepped aside and Perry listened carefully to Sam's chest. When he straightened, his face was grim, "That infection's moved deeper. I need to give you a different antibiotic, see if we can beat it." He glanced at his watch, "It's moving fast. I'm worried that it's something really nasty, but I can't test anything here." He frowned at Sam, who was leaning against the pillows tiredly. "It doesn't help that you're exhausted."

Toby shifted uncomfortably, "I shouldn't have bothered you." He looked at Perry, "His brain's still working remarkably well, considering what he's done to himself this week. But I guess we should have let him rest?"

"Oh, I don't think anything would've stopped him being involved," laughed Perry. "I'm just worried, that's all. I'll try another antibiotic." He moved over to the dispensing cabinet. The door opened and Leo slipped in. 

"How's he doing?" He was looking at Toby. 

Sam lifted his hands in exasperation, "Why doesn't anyone ask ME?" He immediately started coughing again, everyone wincing at the sounds, and Leo rolled his eyes at Sam.

Toby looked at Leo, "He's not doing so good. But he's in good hands."

"Well, we've got a few hours to go, so I suggest you all get some rest, it's gonna be tough going the minute we touch down." He turned to Perry, "How's he really doing? I mean, do we need to be worried?"

"No more than usual! He's just taken on two bugs, I'd say, and his system's fighting one, but hasn't the oomph right now to get after the second one. That's my job, to find something to do the fighting for him. He's just too tired." 

"Poor kid was shattered before he fell in the river." 

"I suspected as much. I know what sort of hours you keep."

"Well," Leo looked at Josh and Toby, "You guys get some shut-eye, right?"

Josh nodded, "I'll be out soon." Leo and Toby left and Perry adjusted Sam's IV. He looked down at Sam rather kindly, 

"How're you feeling, son?" 

Sam smiled slightly, "Not too bad. It sure hurts to cough. Can I have a drink yet?"

"Not a good idea, it'll come straight back. You want to risk that? Because I think you're too tired to be vomiting any more right now. Your throat's getting sore?" Sam nodded. "I'll get you some ice to suck." 

"I'll do it," volunteered Josh, and was back in a flash with chips of ice. Perry made himself scarce and Josh let Sam pick out some tiny chunks which he sucked gratefully.   
They stared at one another intently.

"How many times've we sat like this?"

"We've had our share of hospital beds, I guess." Josh took one of Sam's hands in his own. "You feeling really bad?"

Sam blinked at him, "I guess." His hand gripped Josh's tightly. "You should get some rest, like Leo said. It'll be amazing to be in the middle of the whole thing. You don't wanna be tired." His words were slurring slightly and Josh spontaneously gathered Sam in his arms and held him tightly. Sam relaxed against him and within moments had started to fall asleep. Josh leaned him back and then slipped out to get some rest himself. 

  
*

  
A few hours and they were winging their way down towards Nevada. Everyone was a little more rested, except Sam, whose stomach had rejected even the ice chips. A renewed bout of retching had left him with a sore throat and a fierce headache, over and above the pain in his chest. The doctor had done all he could to alleviate Sam's symptoms, and had even talked to the biological diseases department to get some idea of what may be ailing his patient. He had grown fond of Sam in the few hours he had treated him, finding the young man to be somewhat shy about himself but ebullient in his praise for the rest of the Staff. There had been a stream of well-wishers popping their heads in to tell Sam to get well soon, and Perry could see that they all genuinely cared about this gentle, intelligent young man. 

The President had called in while Sam was hunched over a towel, and it hadn't fazed him in the slightest. He had rested a hand on Sam's heaving shoulder while asking Perry endless questions, getting quite excited about the types of bug one could catch in polluted water, and then falling into a lengthy discussion about South American geography. His hand had stayed on Sam's shoulder as the younger man leaned back against the pillows and Sam had drifted off to sleep with the firm warmth of that powerful hand centering his equilibrium and a familiar voice ebbing and flowing through his tired brain.

Jed looked down at his speechwriter, "Oh dear, I think I've sent him off to sleep." He grinned somewhat sheepishly at the doctor, "Normally he wouldn't be allowed to do that!" He gazed back at Sam's pale face, "He's something of a genius, you know. He brings some very special qualities to our team." He patted Sam's hand, "He'll pull through this all right?"

"Oh, yessir, he'll be right as rain in a couple of weeks, I hope. Barring any complications from this chest infection, that is. He won't be up to the usual pace of the West Wing though! That might take time."

"I'll need you to talk to Leo about what to do with Sam while we're off the plane. He won't be up to coming with us, so - I'll leave that in your hands."

"Thank you, Mr President." 

"Right." Jed took one more careful look at Sam, at the white dress shirt rumpled and untucked, the tousled hair, "He looks so young," he sighed wistfully. Rousing himself, he shook the doctor's hand, "Good talking to you, Perry. Take good care of our boy."

  
* * *

  
Nevada was hot and dry and they landed directly onto the Army base, meeting up with the National Guard, and heading off for negotiations and a surprise visit to the township that had been under siege. Security on the Base was heavy and the Press party was pleased to follow CJ and the President towards the town.

Josh was sparking on all cylinders as they bumped across the Base in a jeep. He was keen to get his teeth into some on-the-minute negotiations, the seriousness of these evident in the two deaths that had already occurred. He gazed out the window. The Base was as hot and dry as the surrounding low-rising hills, the earth a compressed red, rich in the warm hues of autumn, baked hard beneath an unforgiving sun. There were no trees in sight, only giant agave plants, their thick leaves unfurling, sharp barbs ready for any interference.

Perry managed to get a medical courier to take some samples from Sam for analysis. Sam had been forced to stay in the Medical Centre of Airforce One. He was suddenly irritable and had accepted his forced stay with poor grace, hunching down under the covers and frowning at the wall. Still unable to even suck ice, Perry was threatening to add IV fluids to his intake of antibiotics. 

"The air in a plane is quite dry - it'll compound your dehydration from the vomiting. We'll try the ice one more time, but if it doesn't stay down, I'll really need to do that." Sam had shrugged miserably, his cough loud in the small room. Perry gazed at him with sympathy. He knew where Sam wanted to be just then, and he could tell Sam was feeling too ill to work all the same. His frustration was palpable and Perry couldn't see what he could really do to help. He turned to walk away but Sam grabbed his sleeve,

"I'm sorry." Perry looked down into those deep blue eyes. Sam was frowning. "I shouldn't have been so rude. I just wish I was - no offence, but - anywhere but here." He gazed around the walls like a caged animal, "If everyone's off the plane, couldn't I go for a walk around or something?" Perry could see the desperation to just do something. 

"Well, I could take you and your IV for a walk if you think you've got the legs for it." 

"I don't really know. I just want to move."

Perry helped Sam fold back the blanket and swing his legs around, then slide off the bed. 

"Oops. Take it slowly there, son." Perry swung an arm under Sam's shoulders blades and waited for Sam to clear his vision. 

Sam wrinkled his nose, "I've only been in bed a few hours. What the hell's happened to me?"

"I told you, you're fighting two bugs, neither of which your body is used to. They've hit you hard." They shuffled across the room until Sam felt a little stronger and was able to stand up unaided. Perry held the IV and they tottered out into the body of the plane. There were quite a few people working, cleaning and polishing the interior and they all acknowledged Sam and Perry with a smile or greeting. Sam made it to his usual seating area before a coughing fit left his head reeling. Even though he knew they'd all gone out, it was a little disappointing to find no-one there. After a few minutes they headed back by mutual unspoken consent and Sam lay back on the bed without a word. Perry stood at the bedside and waited. Finally Sam looked up at him miserably, 

"I'm really sick, aren't I? I mean, this isn't going to be all gone tomorrow, is it?"

Perry bit his upper lip, ruminating, then perched on the edge of the bed, "I know you've had your fair share of chest troubles of late, but this is a little different, son. These sorts of bacteria, they can assault the entire body. You're going to ache in places you didn't know you had muscles. I know that sounds a little depressing but it's true. Your immune system may be shot down too, so you'll have to keep warm and dry and well-fed once this is over. In the meantime, I can't see you feeling too good for quite a few days. You'll need to be a patient patient."

Sam fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He pouted a little but then shrugged, his eyes lighting up with the faintest of glimmers, and he ghosted a grin that melted Perry's heart,   
"Not much I can do about it, right?" 

* * * 

Forty-eight hours later... and Sam was sitting in his own bed tapping away at his laptop. His hair was still hanging limply above his glasses, and his face was pinched and pale. The usual dark shadows swept an arc beneath his eyes, and he was wearing a baggy, frayed sweatshirt over a dark tee. The bed was littered with papers and articles, interviews and data collected by Bonnie. Sam was onto the last paragraph of the President's address to the rapidly growing Child Cancer Awareness Body. His fingers flew over the keys as he summed up the points made in the speech,  
"To help your child fight against cancer, you need to find a special strength inside yourself. You need to be strong when your child feels weak, you need to be brave when your child is scared, and you need to be cheerful when your child is sad. Of course, you don't need to hide your feelings but children need strength and courage and joy if they are to conquer their own fears and be positive in their own journey with cancer. These parents here today, they have all been through the most horrific of moments, finding out their child has cancer, and then it got worse. They had to live through chemotherapy, radiotherapy, illness, pain, hair loss, constant nausea, depression, and none of it was their own, they lived through it through their children which is the greatest ache of all. I salute you parents for your strength, your courage and your joy, and most of all, for your love. Whether your child won or lost that battle, they knew that you loved them and that has to be the most important factor of all." 

Sam sat back wearily. He had been working all day, although he had dozed off a couple of times, jerking awake with his face in a pile of papers. He took the water from beside the bed and had a few reluctant sips. It was warm. He was still having stomach trouble, unable to keep any food down yet, and his cough had a tendency to hit him in waves, coming in fits that paralysed him and left him gasping for air, retching with the sheer effort of fighting the congestion. 

Perry had been right, there had been no quick fix for his brush with Bolivian bacteria, and a nasty pair of bugs they were too. Sam stared off into the middle distance for a moment, reliving the visit to the river. He had been captivated, first by the incredible size of the mountains surrounding them, the altitude magnifying the experience visually and physically. The odd grey of the sky had interested him too, so seemingly close and dense that he was certain he could have dipped his hand into it and written his name on a rock. And the water of the river, swirling oiliness, an inky opaqueness that seemed to hover, layer upon layer, oozing sluggishly towards the bridge. He remembered leaning slightly to gaze into the darkness of the water, searching for any sign of life, any indication that this wasn't indeed some pool of Hades, seeking retribution from those stupid enough to drink from it. And then the explosion. The rotten rope. The fearful fall which he relived the previous night, flailing and frightening both Josh and himself into a state of panic at two in the morning. Sam shivered and rubbed his arms.

"Cold?"

"Huh?!?" Sam started in fright. "When did you come in?"

"A few moments ago. I called out but you didn't answer, thought you were asleep. What were you doing?"

"I - I was just thinking about the trip again." Sam cleared a space on the bed. "C'mon, sit with me. Oh no, wait, have to send this to Toby." 

"I'll make coffee. Why don't you come out when you're done? I had an amazing day," Josh threw off his suit and pulled on a sweater and jeans as he talked. "Met with Candon from the French cigarette campaign. Fascinating guy." He wandered back out towards the kitchen, and Sam heard him rinse the coffee pot. He checked his work and sent it through to Toby before putting his notes aside and clambering over the papers on the bed. 

He pulled on some track pants and walked as far as the door before stopping for breath, his chest tight and sore. Sticking with shallow breaths, Sam made a slightly wobbly path to the kitchen. He slipped in as Josh was rinsing cups and wrapped his arms around his partner, resting his head against the back of Josh's neck. Josh relaxed into Sam's embrace and leaned back into him slightly, grunting pleasurably. Sam held on firmly, thrilled just to be on his feet and after a moment Josh slid around within the circle of Sam's arms and faced him, taking Sam's face between his hands. He lifted off his glasses, "You won't be needing those." They kissed, not a long kiss, as it set off Sam's cough, but a myriad of small, tender kisses that seemed to go on forever. 

  
*

  
Josh set his coffee mug down and turned to look at Sam sprawled beside him on the couch, gazing lazily at the football on television. 

"So, how d'you really feel right now?' 

Sam shrugged one shoulder tiredly. "Not sure really. Not so bad. I worked quite a bit of the day. That felt good."

"Eat anything?" Josh ran a hand up and under Sam's sweater, caressing his flat stomach, "Remember back at the hotel, saying you needed to get to the gym?"

"Yeah, and you agreed with me!" huffed Sam. 

"I was kidding, you nutter! You always looked great. Right now though, you look like a small child could knock you over with a feather. There's no way you need to miss a meal for a long while to come. And seriously. Abby was asking after you, said you needed to start eating. Crackers and dry toast and things like that. I bought some."

"You bought toast?" Sam grinned mischievously.

"No!!" Josh automatically tickled him and he wriggled, immediately groaning from the pain of his sore stomach muscles. 

"Oops! You all right?" Josh soothed Sam's belly and Sam relaxed again. "I forgot how sore you are. No, I bought some crackers, the plainest ones I could find. Come and sit in the kitchen and we'll sort something out." 

Sam groaned, "You'll have to help me up then. I can't get up off here by myself." Josh stood up and held out his hands to Sam, drawing him upright, sensing Sam's grimace. 

He had been caring for Sam ever since they had touched down back in DC. Sam had been surprisingly shaky, and sore - Josh was amazed that every movement seemed to tug at Sam's stomach muscles, and he had gotten used to rescuing his lover from the bed, from Sam's favourite armchair, and once from the floor after a coughing fit had left Sam so dizzy he had sunk to the floor to save himself from toppling over. He had phoned from work every few hours and had tried to help Sam to monitor his medication and fluid intake. He had been very patient. So something was sure to blow up soon.

It happened the very next morning. 

Sam was reading in the living room when Josh's muffled voice wafted out of the bedroom, "Sam, have you seen my blue t-shirt? The one I run in?"

"You're going for a run?"

"Nope, meeting Charlie for some one-on-one."

"Oh." There was a long silence. 

"Sam! The shirt?"

"I dunno. Probably in the wash."

"You didn't do the wash?" Josh appeared in the doorway in track-pants and socks. 

"I did two loads from our trip but that didn't even get halfway down the basket."

"I really like that shirt, can we quickly wash it now?"

"Don't be ridiculous. That'd take at least an hour. When d'you want to go?"

"Now." Josh jiggled impatiently. "You've been home all day for three days now with nothing to do, you couldn't have done the damn laundry?"

Sam's jaw tightened, "I always do the laundry. I just got behind this week, I dunno, maybe I wasn't feeling well?" His voice was rising. "It's too damn hard for you?"

"Oh, c'mon, you couldn't have just shoved a few items of clothing into the machine and switched it on?"

"It has to be sorted..."

"Oh crap! You're so utterly anal, it's just freaking laundry. And all I wanted was one freaking blue shirt. Haven't I done enough for you this week?" Josh stormed back into the bedroom, grabbed another tee and dragged it over his head, shoving his feet into sneakers at the same time. He scuffed out past Sam, grabbing up his keys, 

"See you later." The door slammed. Sam sat there, stunned. He blinked a few times, feeling the unwelcome heat caused by Josh's attack. Then he put down his book and rose wearily, wandering out to the laundry area. Josh had dumped the laundry basket on end, clothes trickling out in all directions. Bending down awkwardly, his sore stomach still affecting every movement, Sam sorted the laundry and started to fill the machine. 

While it washed, he wandered out to the kitchen, where he found the dishwasher had been stacked but not turned on. He grimly wiped the benches, cleaned out the fridge and finally, between bouts of coughing, mopped the floor. On a roll now, he dumped the first load of laundry into the drier and filled the machine again. He wiped down the bathroom basin and finally decided to strip the bed. That was the wrong option though. Already aching from his efforts, still smarting from Josh's barb, Sam had pushed himself too far. Bending down to release the fitted sheet, he found his body reluctant to follow his commands. As he leaned over and tugged at the sheet in irritation, he felt his whole stomach turn over and he collapsed on the floor in agony, retching piteously into the wet towel Josh had dropped in his haste to get away. 

Trouble was, once he had started retching, he couldn't seem to stop. His shoulders hunched, fists clenched tightly, Sam had wound himself up and didn't know how to relax enough to stop. The stress of the past few days had already tightened his neck and shoulder muscles and now he seemed locked in a paroxysm of vomiting. It took him nearly ten minutes to break the cycle, the towel soaked, his own clothing drenched with sweat, and he curled up in a ball on his side, the pain in his tired stomach too intense for him to bear just then. He slipped into a merciful sleep, right there on the floor. 

  
* 

  
Josh put his feet up on Toby's coffee table. "I just felt - I dunno - sort of - " he stared openly at Toby, "I really don't know, I mean, I yelled at Sam over laundry! What the hell's gotten into me?"

"I'd say you're tired. You've been working full on and caring for him the whole time.   
But he's ill, Josh, what d'you think he's doing all day, lying back on the chaise longue eating grapes? From what I could tell on the phone, he's barely keeping it together. I don't think he's out of the woods yet, either."

Josh stared at his toes, "I know. I really know. I just suddenly wanted him back to normal..." he glanced up at Toby and was rewarded with a severe glare. 

"What're you doing here?" Leo was leaning on the doorframe.

"I just did some one-on-one with Charlie. Why?"

"How's Sam?"

"Josh just yelled at him. He's too scared to go home now."

"Why would you yell at him? The kid's sick, Josh."

"All RIGHT! I know, I know. I'm going."

Toby stood up, "I'll come too, I need to see him about another thing." He grabbed his coat, "Back soon, Leo."

They found the living room empty - Josh waved at the kitchen, "Put the jug on, I'll find Sam."

He ducked into the bedroom and stopped dead. Sam was on the floor, white as a ghost, one arm flung awkwardly against the bed, the sheet twisted around him. Josh backed up a step, "To-" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "Toby? Can you get in here?" Toby appeared at the door behind him and took in the scene, 

"Shit! What happened?" He pushed past Josh, who stood there frozen to the spot, and knelt by Sam's head, "He's still breathing. I think he's asleep or fainted or something." He tapped Sam's cheekbone firmly, and was rewarded with fluttering eyelashes and a yawn, which morphed into a hacking cough. Toby hefted Sam into a sitting position as the settled congestion rattled around his lungs. Josh staggered over and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He looked shaken. 

Sam finally stopped coughing for a minute and stared curiously at the other two men, "When did you get here?"

"Just a minute ago. What were you doing on the floor?" 

Sam glanced around vaguely perplexed, "Huh?" He stared at Josh, "What's the matter?"

Josh blew out his cheeks, "I just got a fright - you were lying there all tangled in the bedding - I thought something awful had happened." He shook his head wonderingly. "Please tell me you weren't trying to change the bed?"

Sam switched his gaze to Toby and bit his lower lip, "Possibly." He glanced ruefully at the mess, "Didn't get very far. My stomach - " he rubbed a hand across the offending area, "I couldn't get the sheet off, and I stretched out, and it was agony. Think I maybe kind of just gave up." He pouted a little and stared at the floor. "Sorry."

"God! Don't be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry, yelling and everything." Josh stood up. "I'll get some fresh sheets, if you can get out of the way." 

Sam leaned forward a little, and shook his head, "Uh-uh, can't move," he grunted. He wrapped an arm around his waistline, "Maybe I pulled something." 

"We'll help you." Toby put an arm around Sam's back and gestured Josh to do the same from the other side. Together they lifted Sam to his feet, but he doubled up, groaning. Toby tightened his hold, and started to move forward, and Josh followed his lead. They swept Sam out to the couch and deposited him there, on his side. "Now don't move from there. Josh, fix the bed and I'll get the coffee."

Sam lay on the couch, coughing and feeling a little stupid. He slowly pressed himself into a sitting position, grimacing and squinting but pleased to have done it himself. He lifted his sweater, staring at his belly as if he could see the problem there on his skin. Josh appeared beside him, perching on the arm of the couch. "Stop that. You're too sexy and Toby's here." He reached down and swept a delicate finger across Sam's skin and Sam twitched, pulling his sweater back into place. Josh sobered, "Sorry about before. I didn't mean you had to rush around doing things. I just lost my head for a minute." He kissed the top of Sam's head. "You up for coffee yet?"

Sam eased himself back into the chair, "Maybe it's like when you go for a run after a long time, the muscles hurt more the day after. So maybe I'm hurting more now that I've finished throwing up?" 

"You weren't sick then?"

"Oh. Um, yeah." Sam picked at a loose thread on the edge of his sweater. "I was."  
He looked up at Josh, distress in his eyes, "When is it going to stop? I haven't eaten for days now. I wanna get back to work." He shifted slightly, grimacing and frowning. "Why did I have to fall in that stupid bloody river?"

"No point worrying about that now." Toby came in with three mugs. 

Sam pouted miserably at his, "Hot water?" 

"If you're still sick, then there's no point drinking coffee." Sam heaved a put-upon sigh and sipped his water. 

"No aroma," he muttered. Josh ghosted a grin and relaxed a little, sliding down beside Sam on the couch. Sam glanced at him, "How come you're both here anyway?" He frowned, "Didn't I already ask that?"

"I finished with Charlie hours ago and Toby wanted to see you about something."

"Hours? Really?" Sam squinted at his watch. "Damn!" Toby caught Josh's eye with a look of concern, and Josh shrugged. Sam sighed again, "Must have slept for a while there on the floor. God, that's pathetic!" He looked at Toby, "What'd you want?"

Toby looked like he didn't want to answer. He leaned forward on one elbow and rubbed at his temple. His dark eyes were unreadable, and Sam cocked his head to one side, hoping to elicit a response. "Toby?"

"I could use you, tomorrow, but I'm thinking you don't really look up to it - " he changed positions rather awkwardly, crossing his ankle over his knee and leaning on the opposite hand, staring fixedly at the rug lying on the floor between them. Josh glanced from one to the other. 

"What d'you need?" Sam looked interested.

"I need you to come sit with me at the Herrington negotiations tomorrow."

"That's tomorrow? Oh God, I hadn't realized. Of course I'll come. We prepared all that weeks ago." Sam ran a hand through his hair, "I'm so out of it this week." 

Josh's hand smoothed across his back soothingly, "I don't think anyone expected you to be on top of your game right now. But how're you going to go to anything - you haven't even kept a bite of food down yet. You can barely get out of your seat without help." 

"I can help him. Josh, I really need him there. More than half the input is his." 

"You can't get a postponement?"

"You don't think I tried?"

"You didn't think I'd ask?"

"You didn't think I'd put up some sort of fight?"

"Was there ever a time when you didn't?"

"Was there ever a time when it wasn't worth fighting for?"

Sam's head was growing dizzy, "What is this, Whose Line is it Anyway?"

"Good joining in, Sam!"

"Buzz, you lose." Toby stood up triumphantly. "The hearing's at ten. Can you come in first? Not too early or anything, just to go over things?"

"Sure." Sam tried to look confident. He leaned forward to stand but Toby waved him back, "Don't get up, save your strength for tomorrow." He smirked slightly and turned, "I can see myself out."

As the door shut, Josh snaked an arm around Sam's waist and pulled him back in close beside him. "You sure you can do this?"

Sam slung an arm across Josh's midriff and leaned into his shoulder, "I have to."

  
* * *

  
Toby parked in one of the visitors' spaces and switched off the engine. He glanced sideways at his Deputy, "Ready?"

"Yeah." 

"Need a hand to get out?"

Sam's blue gaze fixed on his boss, "I don't think so." His jaw was set determinedly. 

"Sure you're up for it?" A nod. "Right, let's go then."

Toby got out and Sam gritted his teeth, swinging his legs around and straightening up. It hurt but at least he could do it. He stood there for a moment, holding onto the roof of the car, and hissed out a long breath. Toby was watching him carefully from the far side of the car. 

Most of the other members of the initiative were in the conference room when they arrived, standing around in groups of two or three. Toby joined Mike Stone from Justice and they chatted for a few minutes until their host and chairman arrived. There had apparently been a last minute replacement, so they had no idea who to expect. Everyone was pleasantly surprised to find Jeff Cordova swing into the room, a wide grin on his face.

Cordova had become a highly respected lawyer in DC since his relocation from Boulder. Back there he had been a leading light in Appeals, and that had won him a posting to the prestigious law center headed by Lachlan Davenport and Barnaby Briggs. 

Jeff was about Sam's height, but a good deal heftier. He had been a college offensive linebacker and still had the powerful arms and strong neck of his playing days. He had also retained a thick thatch of blond hair above crinkly brown eyes - he looked as far from a board room lawyer as one could imagine, but he was a deadly opponent and all the people in the room were very much aware of that. 

Jeff spotted Sam and headed right over. Jeff had a soft spot for Sam. They had been faced off across a negotiating table a few months back, gaining mutual respect for one another's ability, and had had a surprise reunion the very next night in hospital...

...Jeff had been playing a Masters football game and had sustained a nasty blow to the ribcage. He had sat in his hospital bed fuming with the stupidity of it all, one final last-minute tackle, poorly executed, and here he was, a broken rib and apparently a bruised lung. What the hell? Bruised lung! He groaned with irritation. He loved playing Masters football, being able to keep a hand in the game, keep up his old friendships, the camaraderie of it all. He had always dreaded an injury, a reason for his current girlfriend to hint that it was time to give it up. Thank goodness she was out of town this week. He stared around the room. He had to stay at least one night, and it was only four in the afternoon. How boring was this? Maybe he could get someone to bring in some work. But as he sat up a little, the pain kicked in and he broke out in a cold sweat, hissing air through his teeth. He lay back gingerly against the pillow and decided to just wait it out. 

Ten minutes later there was some activity as a nurse bustled in and started to make up the other bed in the room. She smiled at him, 

"You're getting a roomie. Guy down in the ER having an asthma attack, pretty sure he'll be admitted. He's been up here before." She flicked open a clean sheet and spread it across the bed, efficiently tucking in the corners. "He works in the West Wing." She smiled fondly and headed for the door. "At least you'll have some nice company."

Jeff grinned to himself, company from the West Wing had to be interesting! Anything was better than lying here by himself. Half an hour later he was awakened from a light doze by the arrival of a gurney, bearing a pale, slim, dark-haired man in a business shirt and pants, hooked up to an IV and an oxygen line. The man's eyes were half-closed and Jeff could see he was struggling to breathe, judging by the noticeable rise and fall of his shoulders, straining to get enough air into his lungs. Jeff did a double take, Seaborn? Sam Seaborn? Surely not! That would be too much of a coincidence. He thought back to their meeting the previous day, Seaborn unwell, coughing constantly, the gruff Ziegler surprisingly concerned over his Deputy. Jeff had thought it odd at the time, but had shrugged it off. Seaborn had been sick as a dog but had negotiated fearlessly and had beaten Jeff's team down in well under the two hours allotted to their meeting. He had coughed and sneezed his way through a veritable mountain of legal issues, his face buried in a handkerchief half the time, nose red, face pale, eyes streaming, and he had won them all over completely. Jeff sat up carefully and looked across as the nursing team eased Sam off the gurney and onto the bed. They rearranged the lines, added a monitor to the collection and connected the oxygen, tucking Sam in efficiently. He leaned back, clearly embarrassed by the fuss he had created, his eyes blinking nervously. 

The medical team cleared out, leaving just the ward nurse, and she waved across at Jeff.   
"Sam, this is your room-mate, Jeff." Sam swiveled his head slowly to look across and his eyes bugged out, jaw dropping,   
"Jeff?" His voice was very croaky, and he immediately broke into a heavy coughing fit, gasping desperately. The nurse frowned in consternation and quickly sat him up a little straighter,  
"What's the matter?"

Sam was still gasping like the proverbial fish out of water, one hand flapping, and Jeff took pity on him and smiled at the nurse, "We met yesterday. At a meeting."

"Goodness. What a coincidence!" The nurse rubbed Sam on the back for a minute, and adjusted his IV a little. She leaned down and looked carefully into his blue eyes, "How're you doing, Sam?"

His distress still evident, Sam managed to give her a small smile. She squeezed his hand and then went to make a note on his chart. Sam looked back over at Jeff, and raised a hand in greeting, "Hey," he croaked. "What happened?"

Jeff grinned back, "Playing football, we have a Thursday Masters game going. Rib. Now I can see why Ziegler was in such a state over you yesterday. I thought you just had a cold or something."

"I thought that too," Sam pouted a little ruefully. "It got worse today though. Tried to get through but -" he shrugged and coughed again. "They had to call an ambulance up to Courts, I was in a conference."

"Dan Bray?"

"Yeah." Sam inhaled painfully. "How'd you guess?"

"I knew he had you after I did. We play football together, but he had a meeting. Couldn't make it. Unfortunately, it didn't work out so well for me." He described how he had been injured, and they went on to discuss the Raiders and the Redskins, the Patriots and the rest of the NFL, Jeff doing most of the talking, Sam just nodding, throwing in the occasional comment. They invariably moved onto politics and chatted on, Sam slowly becoming drowsy, exhausted after two days fighting for breath, and he apologetically drifted off before six p.m.

Josh popped in at seven and chatted to Jeff for quarter of an hour before Sam leaned forward, coughing and wheezing, waking in a panic, arms flailing. Josh moved quickly, calming his partner, and they embraced modestly. Jeff tactfully commented that he needed to stretch his legs and gingerly climbed off the bed, wandering out into the corridor. Josh turned back to Sam, 

"God, I can't believe you're back in here. What the hell happened? How're you doing?"

Sam shrugged, "I was fine, I mean, I had that cold-"

"Toby was worried about you yesterday."

"He was? I'd been coughing, sure, but it just got worse today really. I just stopped getting any air in or out." He stared down at his fingers, twisting the sheet.

Josh put his hand over Sam's, stilling the nervous movement, "I told you to stay home this morning. What's your peak flow?"

"Just under a hundred."

"Dammit, Sam!"

"I'll be fine, I mean, I'm sure they'll let me out soon." He bit his lip, "Josh, I'm sorry." He peeked up through his dark eyelashes, and Josh smiled forgivingly, giving Sam a subtle kiss on the forehead. 

They were interrupted by Jeff's return with a couple of ex-football players keen to meet men from the West Wing, and soon Josh was holding court from Sam's bed, leaning back on the pillows beside his partner, arm casually slung around Sam's shoulders, who was content to let his eyes drift closed and his body absorb the gentle rumblings of the Lyman monologues. The arrival of Sam's doctor quietened things down, the football buddies soon on their way, Josh and Tim shaking hands and renewing their acquaintance. 

Tim Woods glanced over Sam's chart, "I just got in. Back to see us. So soon?" He frowned at Sam, "What preventive measures did you take?"

"It was just a cold."

"Sam, sorry, but there's no such thing as that any more, for you. It's too dangerous to take this lightly. Let me listen to your chest." Josh got out of the way, moving over to the window and staring out into the dark. He had to go back to work yet, and he felt drained after the worry of hearing that Sam had been shipped off to GW in an ambulance. Tim was frowning more deeply, and he straightened in irritation, "That wheeze is nasty. I need to get something stronger." He laid a flat hand on Sam's chest and let it feel the ragged, whistly inhalations for a couple of minutes, a look of concentration on his face. "How long've you had the cold?"

Sam glanced over at Josh, "A couple of days? Three?"

"No, you had it on Sunday, remember, and it's Thursday now, so that's five really."

Tim snorted with a sense of frustration, "Sam, at the moment, and Josh, I know you're listening, so can you both listen to this, if Sam gets a cold, any sort of cold, even a little sniffle, I want you to start preventive measures, monitor peak flow, get plenty of rest and DON'T ignore any asthma symptoms. Right?" Both men nodded. "I mean it, Sam, until we get through a winter without you ending up in here, we haven't gotten control of this, and it'll wear you down. Please take this as a serious wake-up call." 

"Can I go home then?"

"Hell NO!!!! Jesus!!!!" Tim threw up his hands in frustration. "Have you listened to yourself?? Maybe tomorrow. And I mean MAYBE." He glanced across at Jeff, suddenly aware there was someone else in the room, "Sorry, I don't usually yell at my patients, only this one." Jeff grinned sympathetically, and Tim moved over to Sam's chart, making notes. Josh stayed by the window, sad suddenly that he'd have to spend another night alone, missing Sam already. His shoulders drooped as he stared blindly out into the darkness. He could hear Sam's wheezy breathing and he shuddered.

Tim left to formally admit Sam, and Sam slowly removed his oxygen line, unclipped his monitor and slipped out of bed, taking his IV pole with him. As Jeff watched, curious, Sam put his fingers to his lips and winked. Jeff picked up a newspaper and buried his nose in it, giving Sam some privacy. Sam padded over to the window.

A hand on Josh's shoulder jerked him out of his reverie, and he swung around to find Sam right behind him. He stared at the pale face, the beautiful blue eyes, the tension of the asthma obvious to Josh, but there was a loving expression on Sam's face, sympathy evident, and Josh reminded himself that this was just as hard on Sam as it was on him. Harder. It was Sam who was struggling for breath, who faced the fear of an asthma attack, and, suddenly moved, Josh sighed and took Sam in his arms, mindful of the IV line snaking away from one wrist. They embraced for a long minute, Josh absorbing the wheeze of his partner's laboured breathing. Sam closed his eyes, relaxing for the first time since that awful moment back in Courts when he realized that he wasn't able to breathe by himself any more, that he needed help, and had to turn frightened eyes upon the Magistrate in the meeting and whisper that they might need to call an ambulance. 

Josh felt Sam relax; it was such a physical sensation with Sam, his whole body reflecting both his mood and the mood of those around him. He steered his lover back to the bed and helped him to settle on the pillows, promising to be back in the morning. They kissed discreetly and then Josh was gone. 

Later in the night, restless with the pain in his side, Jeff stared around in the gloom. His roomie was awake as well; he could see Sam's legs shifting under the sheet, his hands wringing, hear his breathing uneven and whistly. Jeff climbed stiffly out of bed and approached Sam, 

"You awake?"

Sam's eyes were like dark sapphires in the light filtering in from the corridor. He nodded,  
"Ye-" his voice was hoarse. "Yeah, the drugs keep me awake, I think. Wanna talk?" He cleared his throat, coughing, one hand creeping round to his back, "Seem to ache all over." He drew his knees up to his chest to try and alleviate the pain in his back, and Jeff perched on the end of the bed. 

"Me too, I never realized a broken rib was such a pain in the proverbial ass." He settled comfortably, "So, c'mon, Sam, tell me about life in the West Wing, what's it like working for President Bartlet?"

Sam smiled, "He's incredibly inspiring. He barrels into a room and just fills the place with electricity. You couldn't ignore him." Sam paused for a few breaths. "He's got a phenomenal memory, loves to drive everyone crazy with that, but I love it!" Sam paused again, his shoulders lifting, a clear wheeze whistling, and Jeff frowned, 

"You sure you're okay there?"

Sam shrugged, "Probably not. But I don't want to do anything just yet." And panting a little, Sam went on to describe life with Leo and Toby. 

"What about Lyman?"

Sam pursed his lips, "What d'you want to know? He's a political genius, I can say that!"

"Thinks the world of you, that's for sure."

Sam blushed and looked at his hands, "We're - close."

"Hey, I don't mind, don't give a damn what people do in their private lives. I can see you've got a great relationship going and that's cool."

Sam smiled at him, "Thanks." He coughed painfully, one hand on his chest, one on his back, "God!" he wheezed in sudden irritation, "Can't do it! You do the talking, tell me about life with Davenport and Briggs."

So Jeff chatted about the law firm who had head-hunted him, concerned as Sam's wheezing seemed to be increasing in intensity. After about fifteen minutes, as Sam seemed to deteriorate before his eyes, he leaned past Sam, wincing with the effort, and pressed the call button. "Sorry, dude, but you sound bad."

It eventuated that Sam was close to respiratory arrest, and had to be rushed up to ICU for intensive treatment. By the time he was returned to the ward a day later, Jeff had been discharged, but he came back that evening to commiserate and bring Sam some interesting books to read. And a firm friendship had been formed... 

And so Sam was pleased to see Jeff heading the team for the meeting and Jeff was pleased to see Sam, although he pointed out that Sam didn't look any better than he had a few months back. 

Sam had ducked his head ruefully, "Just had a terrible bug, been in Bolivia." 

Toby, who had also met Jeff that first night in GW when he popped in on his way home, leaned close, "The klutz fell in a polluted river." 

Jeff's mouth dropped open, "We have GOT to talk later." He grinned mischievously and called the meeting to order. Once again, Jeff found a pale, unwell Sam to be a formidable opponent as they wrangled the value of human rights intertwined with the issue of illegals receiving health care. The meeting was long, and after nearly two hours, Toby could tell Sam was finding it hard to concentrate. He watched his Deputy rubbing his forehead distractedly and blinking too much, and he cleared his throat, "Can we take a five minute break, Jeff?"

Jeff could see right away that Toby was worried about Sam, because he had been thinking the same thing. "Sure. Take five, then we might just be able to wrap this up. I'm kinda reeling from yet another Sam Seaborn thrashing." The others laughed, most of them backers for Sam's cause, and all of them somewhat concerned about the paleness of Sam's face, the shadows under his eyes, the obvious weakness of his movements. As if by agreement, everyone moved out of the room, leaving Toby and Sam at the table. Sam took off his glasses and pressed his hands over his face. He sighed hugely. 

Toby laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, "Talk to me, Robin."

The joke registered, and Sam's lips twitched under his hands. He dragged his hands away and turned to Toby, his eyes pleading, "Can't go on, Toby. I'm all in." He stared right at Toby, the intensity of his blue eyes making the older man shudder inexplicably. His hand still rested on Sam's shoulder and he patted him gently,

"We just need to tidy things up, get things in writing. Think you can hold on?"

Sam shook his head slightly, his eyes still boring into Toby's, "Gonna fall asleep. Or throw up." He sighed again. "Really need to lie down." Toby could tell from Sam's language that he was way beyond his limit, and he knew Sam's limit was higher than most. 

"Okay, okay," he murmured softly, thinking, "Let's find you somewhere to lie down, while I finish up here." Sam's eyes had closed, his head resting on one hand, and Toby rose, just as Jeff slipped in. He looked at Sam and met Toby halfway across the room, 

"He's not well?"

"Just exhausted. He's been really sick with this bug. Hasn't recovered fully. If there's somewhere he could lie down while we finish up - "

"Hell, sure. There's a room just down the hall. I'll give you a hand." He grinned at Toby, "Think I could lift him? He looks light as a feather right now!"

Toby snorted, "I don't think he'd appreciate that!" All the same, Jeff bore most of Sam's weight as he hoisted him out of his seat and escorted him down the hall to a small sitting room. He easily lowered Sam down onto a sofa, and watched with his head on one side as Sam flopped back against the cushions and drifted asleep almost at once. 

"Poor guy! He must've been really ill." Jeff stepped back.

"He was, believe me!" Toby raised one eyebrow rather dryly and after a moment, they left Sam to rest.

  
* * *

  
When Josh staggered back in the door from his Sunday run, panting, he found Sam sitting up on the window seat, his knees drawn up under his chin, arms wrapped around his shins. He looked so young that Josh stopped still and just stared, hands on hips, drinking in the sight of the person he loved the most in the world. Sam turned his head to look at his partner, and a warm smile lit up his face, 

"How was the run?"

"Deadly. I can't wait until you're back into it. Can't do it by myself."

Sam bit his lip thoughtfully, "I should be able to soon, you think? Once I'm back at work full time and everything. And not coughing so much. But I'll be terribly unfit by then. You'll be dragging me along." He laid his cheek on his knee and eyed Josh coyly. "I might enjoy that though."

Josh rolled his eyes, "I'm having a shower, then you'll see where I can drag you!"

Sam stayed on the sill. It was still reasonably early on a Sunday morning. He had been working eight hour days, short by West Wing standards, and collapsing into bed most evenings by seven or eight p.m. He and Josh had hardly seen one another all week. Sam's recovery was proving to be slow, just as Perry Harris, the doctor on the plane, had predicted. Over a week after their return and Sam was still finding it a struggle to eat, still fighting off the chest infection that had knocked him sideways, and still incredibly tired. The Senior Staff had been understanding, having seen what Sam had been through on the trip, but others had found it odd adjusting to a slow-moving Sam Seaborn. His head had ached constantly all week too, and he was really frustrated now with the slowness of his progress. And Josh was going to be out of the shower soon, and they were both in the mood for some intimacy, but Sam was afraid of that too, what if he didn't even have the energy for that? He buried his face in his knees and hunched his shoulders protectively. 

Josh found him there fifteen minutes later, asleep. He gently shook Sam's shoulder, 

"Hey, c'mon, you come back to bed and sleep there." Sam slowly shook his foggy head, coughing, and clambered down stiffly off the sill. He followed Josh into the bedroom and they both lay down on the bed staring at the ceiling. After a minute, Josh reached out and slid his hand under Sam's tee shirt. He began to draw circles on Sam's belly, round and round, small ones that spiraled into large rings then shrank back down. Sam was surprised to find his body responding positively towards Josh and he sighed with pent up relief, a gentle smile on his face. His body arched slightly with pleasure and he wriggled closer to his lover, as Josh increased the pressure and adventure of his hand. He explored Sam's body, feeling the slight loss of weight, the rattle of his chest, the warmth of his navel, and Josh was aroused quickly too. He rolled on one side towards Sam and spread his fingers wide, pressing his palm into the flat between Sam's hips. Sam's hips lifted and he rolled towards Josh, his eyes glittering with desire, and they were both ready for a tender love-making that had been pushed aside since they left DC over three weeks before. 

Afterwards, Sam lay panting on the bed, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving unevenly, and his hands shaking. Josh leaned on one elbow and watched him fight to recover, a concerned look on his face. He laid a hand on Sam's chest. 

"Wish I could wish you well." He could feel the rapid beating of Sam's heart, out of sync with the uneven breathing. "What can I do?" Sam shook his head, his eyes watering. He put one hand over Josh's and squeezed his partner's hand tightly, and together they waited for his body to relax. Josh wondered aloud, "Maybe we should've waited... "

But Sam shook his head again, "That was great, Josh, I really needed that." He grinned tiredly. "Need a rest now though." 

"Sure." Sam curled up on his side, staring at Josh, his eyes slowly blinking, his breathing still a little ragged, and Josh pulled the comforter up over his lover. He watched Sam drift asleep, then he rolled onto his back and resumed the staring at the ceiling. Sam was on the road to recovery, after the whole Bolivian disaster. He swung his gaze back to Sam, looking carefully at his face in repose. No doubt about it, Sam was looking better, and absolutely, utterly fuckable. Satisfied for now, Josh rolled off the bed and headed out to the kitchen to make coffee.


End file.
